Life, Death and Rebirth
by xXWeaponPrimeXx
Summary: The life, death and rebirth of Ian McCormick and Nicholas Spencer as Weapon 666-X and Weapon 723-2X
1. Chapter 1: Days Gone By

Astoria – Paragon City

Fall 1987

"Hey wait up!" he called out, running as fast as his legs would carry him. Ahead he could see Ian McCormick, his best friend since he'd first gone to school. Ian didn't hear him or didn't care, he continued running up the hill, laughing.

"C'mon, you're so slow, Nick!" he called back without turning to look at him. Nick scowled and ran faster, suddenly determined to catch his friend. His worn shoes bit into the soft earth and kicked up small clods of dirt as he scrambled the last few feet to the top of the hill and looked out over Astoria. Nick doubled over and gulped down air and then looked up at Ian who wasn't even breathing hard at all.

"Wow… this place is huge." Nick gasped. Ian nodded. From the top of the hill they could see all through Moth Cemetery and it was expansive. Ian and Nick dropped down and sat with their feet hanging over the edge of the cliff.

"How many people you think are buried here?" Ian asked. Nick shrugged.

"A lot."

They sat in silence for a moment, watching as the sun began to set. When the sky turned a blazing orange, Ian's smile widened.

"My mom took me to Atlas Park yesterday, she wanted to do some shopping, and you'll never guess what I saw!" he said, turning towards Nick. Nick looked at him.

"What'd you see? Was it Statesman?" he asked, suddenly eager to find out what his best friend had seen. Ian shook his head furiously.

"No. There were bunches of people in an alley. I snuck away from my mom while she went into a boring old jewelry store. They all wore bright red and orange outfits. They were the coolest people I've ever seen!" Nick's eyes widened.

"D-didja talk to them?" he asked. Ian smirked.

"Yeah, I did. They said they're called Hellions!" Nick's eyes went wide at his friend's casual use of a bad word. Well, a little more than just the bad word.

"What do they do?" Nick pushed.

"That's the best part!" Ian continued. "They do whatever they want! They don't have moms or dads to bother them and they got all sorts of cool stuff. Look!" Ian fished his hand into his pocket and pulled out a red bandana and thrust it in front of Nick's face. Nick leaned back and examined it. The bandana was dirty and stiff, and it had red stains on it that Nick couldn't and didn't want to identify.

"They said that when I get tired of my parents to come and find them, and they'll let me join them!" Ian said excitedly. Nick frowned. Why would he want to leave his parents? The McCormick's were nice and as far as Nick could tell, they gave Ian whatever he wanted. He had a TV in his room that was bigger than the one Nick's parents watched the news on in their small family room. Come to think of it, Ian's room was bigger than Nick's family room.

"Are you gonna?" he asked. Ian closed his fist around the bandana and shoved it back into his pocket.

"Duh! 'Course I am! I'd have to be an idiot not to!"

"But, your parents are kinda nice. You don't really wanna leave them, do ya?" Ian frowned.

"Yeah, I do." he said, pushing himself to his feet and burying his hands in his pockets as he hunched forward. Nick frowned and got up too. It was a long quiet walk back to his apartment complex. He waved goodbye to Ian and swallowed hard. He was late. He thumbed the call button on the elevator and solemnly got in when the doors parted before him. The elevator stopped on the fifteenth floor and he stepped out into the hall and headed for his home. As he approached he could hear the television blaring. He reached out and took the doorknob in his hand.

It was locked.

Nick swallowed hard. He knew what was coming. He reached up and knocked on the door.

Nothing. His dad probably couldn't hear it over the TV. He knocked again, harder this time and the sound of the TV suddenly cut out.

"Sandy! Tha brat's home!" Nick winced at the sound of his father's voice. He sounded drunk. Very drunk. The locks on the door clicked and his mom's face appeared in the crack in the door.

"I told you to be home on time!" she whispered angrily. She reached out with a thin hand and grabbed Nick by his scruffy brown hair, pulling him in and shutting the door behind him. It hurt, but not compared to some other things. Nick's mom had been beautiful once Nick knew; he'd see the older pictures of her that she hadn't smashed yet. But that was before she started drinking and taking those pills after she wrenched her knee a few years back. Now she looked haggard and drawn, and had gained a lot of weight from doing little more than eating, drinking and sleeping.

"Go explain to your father why you're home late." she said to Nick, shoving him unceremoniously towards his dad. His dad had been the same for as long as he could remember. He sat in his beat up chair and stared blankly at the small TV across from him. He had a beer can in his hand, and several more lay scattered around him. Nick lowered his chin to his chest.

"H-hi dad." he muttered. His dad slowly craned his head towards him and dropped the can in his hand to the carpet, adding what would soon be a new stain to the floor.

His dad was well past drunk.

"Where tha hell haff ya been?" he slurred. Nick looked down at his feet nervously.

"I'm sorry dad. I was out playing with Ian, and I lost track of time." he muttered. His dad fixed his glossy eyes on him and sneered.

"Tha rich boy? Didja bring me any money?"

Nick shook his head. His dad's eyes narrowed and his hand lashed out and caught Nick in the temple. Nick staggered but remained on his feet, his vision blurred and pain shot through his head.

"You will answer me, son!" he barked. Nick sniffed hard.

"No dad, we weren't at his house. I didn't get any more money for you." he said. He willed his eyes to stay dry. If he cried, it'd only get worse. Experience had taught him that.

"What good are ya, ya little shit?" he grunted and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and began to head for the kitchen. Nick didn't move and waited for his father to return to his seat, a fresh beer in his hand.

"Go to your room. And I better not hear a goddamn sound from ya, understand?" he hissed and turned the volume on the TV up louder.

"Yes sir." Nick said with a nod and retreated to his bedroom. He shut the door behind him and moved over to the mirror above his dresser. Already the side of his face was red and he could feel a bruise forming. He sighed and took his shoes off slowly, allowing the tears to flow freely now but not making any sound. Then he crawled into bed and drifted off to sleep.

Ian threw open the door to his house and abruptly threw it closed behind him. He made his way straight for the stairs in front of him. As he climbed he cast a brief glimpse into the family room and saw his family there watching television, if you could call it that. His mom and dad sat with their backs to him, sharing their wide oak desk and typing at a fast pace on each of their computers. They were executives that did something or other, Ian never paid any attention to them, and they didn't pay any attention to him; which was fine with him, so long as they continued buying him whatever he left a note asking for.

His little sister however, did see him. She was sitting just behind her parents playing with a doll they'd bought for her recently. She, unlike Ian with his things, set it down gently on the couch before scampering through the archway to follow after Ian.

"Big brother!" she said happily, using both her hands to help her up each step. Ian rolled his eyes and kept climbing. Iris was barely four years old, and Ian, try as he might, couldn't figure out when his parents would've had time to bring a new life into this world to ignore, but they had. Iris scrambled after him, chanting 'Big Brother' like it was somehow helping her climb the stairs faster.

"Big Brother, wait for me." she whimpered. Ian rolled his eyes and stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back at her.

"Wouldn't you be happier playing with your doll?" he asked, sighing as he did so. Iris shook her head and continued her climb.

"Nah uh, I want to play with my brother." She paused in her climb and smiled up at Ian. Ian struggled not to smile himself and after a moment he smiled and descended the stairs to take her hand and help her climb the rest of the way.

"Why don't you ever ignore me like mom and dad?" he asked as they headed down the hall towards his room.

"But I don't wanna ignore you. You're my brother."

Iris looked up and smiled wide at Ian, who smiled back. Iris was quite possibly the only person that Ian cared about, but he'd never tell anyone. As far as the kids at school and even Nick were concerned, he cared about nothing and no one, and that's the way he wanted it.

No ties.

No one to be responsible for.

Save for Iris of course.

He opened the door to his room and let Iris in first. She scrambled over to his bed and climbed on top of it and turned to sit on the edge. Ian smiled and kicked off his shoes, which flew across the room and knocked a lamp off his dresser. The lamp broke on the floor, and Ian looked at it for a moment, and then shrugged and sauntered over to his bed to sit next to Iris.

"What'd you do today?" she asked him, genuinely interested. Ian shrugged.

"I hung out with Nick at Moth Cemetery." he said. Iris frowned.

"Why do you two always hang out there? Aren't you afraid of ghosts?" Ian gave her a dismissive wave.

"Ghosts in Astoria, that'll be the day." Ian fell back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Hey, Iris?"

His sister plopped back next to him.

"What?"

"Would you come with me if I left?" he asked. Iris sat up like a shot.

"You're not leaving? Are you big brother?" she asked, tears already welling up in her eyes. Ian shook his head.

"It was just a question. Settle down." Ian stared up at his ceiling, thinking about the bandana in his pocket.

_Maybe one day…_he thought.


	2. Chapter 2: Blood Ties

Atlas Park – Paragon City

Winter - 1995

Nick sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"C'mon Ian. You in or out?" he asked, tapping his cards on the table impatiently. Ian smirked and toyed with his chips.

"S'matter Nick? 'Fraid I'll take your money?" he taunted back. Nick shook his head.

"No. I'm afraid I'll die of old age before you decide. Make your damn bet." he hissed. Ian shrugged and tossed a couple of rumpled dollar bills onto the table. Nick looked at them a moment and then over at Ian.

"Who did you take those from?" he asked casually. Ian shrugged.

"Some woman in Atlas. She sure put up a fight for that purse." He laughed, but Nick didn't. Ian had joined up with the Hellions a little more than two years ago, but they've changed since they were children. What was once a gang was now more of a cult, a demon-worshipping cult.

"Is that why you weren't at school today?" Nick asked. He got a shrug and a smile as an answer.

"I can't believe you joined them." Nick muttered as he laid his cards down. "I fold." Ian smiled and scooped up his winnings.

"Why not? I told you I was gonna."

"Does Iris know?"

Ian froze and for a moment he looked as though he were pained.

"No. Of course not." he muttered. "What I do is my business."

"Then why do you tell me?"

"Because I need to give your life some semblance of meaning. Deal a new game."

Nick sighed and began shuffling the cards.

"This would be a more exciting game if there were more people here." he said, looking around the small apartment that Ian owned. His parents had bought it for him as a gift for high school so he would have a shorter commute to Atlas High. He and Nick hung out every day after school, regardless if Ian showed up at school or not. He looked up at the clock and sighed.

"No one wants to. They all think I'm a freak." he hissed, clenching his fists. Nick nodded knowingly. When they'd started at Atlas High, Ian had stuck out like a sore thumb. Dressed in new clothes that not one of the other kids would be caught dead in, he was picked on mercilessly until he'd joined the Hellions. Now, he was called a demon worshipper or outright avoided. Nick had earned a fat lip when he had asked Ian if he actually worshipped demons, and never asked again, assuming it was a touchy or secretive subject. He assumed Ian didn't care one bit about the demon worshipping or the advancement through the ranks. He only enjoyed the freedom to do what he wanted.

"I gotta get home." he muttered as he set the cards aside and stood. Ian rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

"Suit's me fine. I gotta get ready for a little… meeting with my brothers. Its gonna last me all night and probably into the school day tomorrow." Nick rolled his eyes. "Same time tomorrow afternoon?" Nick nodded.

"Yeah, I'll drop by after class."

"Alright, take care man."

Nick stood patiently with a small crowd of people to board the tram to Astoria. Through the crowd he spotted an open bench and made his way to it. He took a seat and fished a book from his bag and did his best to ignore the noise of the city while he studied.

"If it isn't that freak's buddy!" Nick winced and slowly looked up.

"Steve… don't you have something better to do?" he muttered, looking back at his English book. The man in front of him was Steven Kaufman. Quarterback, mister popularity, and his resident tormentor. It wouldn't have been a problem, except that he was never alone. He went everywhere with Alan Wist and Ramsey Gottard, his defensive linemen, and when they were together they felt a need to establish dominance. A large hand slapped the book from his hands and Nick sighed and looked up again.

"S'matter? Tired of hanging out with your freak and his demons?" Steven asked.

"He's not a fre-"

"He's a freak! And a demon-worshipping one at that!" Alan said, swatting Nick in the side of the head. He winced, but didn't move otherwise. Inwardly he wondered why none of the other people at the station said or did anything to stop them. Probably for the same reasons that no one ever called the police when his mom or dad was beating him or each other, apathy.

"Is there a point to all this?" he asked.

"Yeah." Steven said, cracking his knuckles in an attempt to look menacing. "I think we should mess you and him up."

Nick wasn't afraid. He could stop all three of them if he really needed to. Years of beatings from his mother and father had left him largely dull to any kind of pain these three could inflict, and he spent his weekends at a martial arts center in King's Row to help calm his mind and to give him focus.

"What would that solve?" Nick asked calmly. Steven shrugged.

"Prolly nothin'. But it'd sure be fun!" he said, balling his hand into a fist.

"There a problem here?"

As one they turned and a police officer looked down on them, his arms crossed. Steven switched on his charm and smiled pleasantly at the officer.

"No problem officer. We were just chatting with out friend Nick here." he said, making a show of patting Nick on the back. Alan and Ramsey just nodded like fools.

"I'm sure. Nicholas Spencer?" the officer asked. Nick nodded. "Get your books. I need you to come with me." the officer said. Nick gave the officer a strange look but grabbed his book from the floor and his bag and followed the officer out of the tram station.

"Is something wrong, officer?" he asked as they approached a waiting squad car. The officer turned slowly. He looked pained.

"Yes. I'm afraid there's… Something's happened to your mom." he said sadly. Nick narrowed his eyes.

"W-what do you mean?" Nick asked, feeling something catch in his throat. The officer looked pained.

"I'm afraid she was killed…" he said after a long silence. Nick looked down, unsure of how to really feel. His opened his mouth, as if the act of doing so would bring out the correct words or emotions. How was he supposed to feel that his mom, the same woman who would watch him get beat night after night, was dead? As he got older he could hardly believe that the same woman who would leave him alone for days on end as she went on another drunken bender was the same woman who had held him as a baby.

"Do…" Nick said after a long silence. "Do you know who did it?" Again the officer looked pained.

"Yes. It… it was your father. From the reports we got from neighbors… there was shouting, followed by screaming… and then two gunshots. You father is in critical condition at St. Elegius Medical Center with a self-inflicted gunshot wound. He's not expected to live through the night. Nick looked down. He had no love for his father. The man had not once done more than scream at him, belittle him and beat him. His mom wasn't much better, but she at least had moments when she was kind to him.

"Do you have someone you can stay with? Any family?" the officer asked after a moment. Nick shook his head.

"No. My parents were disowned by their families. I don't even know about where my grandparents or aunts and uncles might be."

"What about a friend you can stay with?"

"Um… yeah. Ian McCormick. He has an apartment here in Atlas…" Nick muttered. The officer nodded and gestured to his car.

"Would you like to see your father? We can drop you off at your friend's afterwards."

"Um… no. I can take the tram to Ian's." he muttered. "Do I… Do I sit in the back?" he asked, gesturing towards the squad car.

His father's room at was eerily quiet. He sat next to the bed, staring at the portion of his father's face that wasn't a mess of bloody bandages. The only sound in the room was the device that was breathing for his father. He had stalked through the hospital somewhat out of sync with reality, directed by a nurse who couldn't have been much older than him, who seemed very distraught. She had left him alone in the room with his dad and hurried off, her eyes already brimming with tears. Try as he might, Nick couldn't find anything to be sad about. He actually felt… relieved. No more beatings. No more dreading coming home. No more… home.

He had nothing. And the realization kept him quiet for hours.

"Why…" he whispered, breaking the silence. "From my earliest memory… all I remember is the shouting… the beatings… explaining to teachers why I was bruised. Why weren't you a dad?"

His father simply laid there, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with the machines that kept him alive.

"You never did anything fatherly… I have… no good memories of you… or mom. And this is how things wind up? All I remember is crying myself to sleep almost nightly…"

There was a soft knock at the door and Nick looked up.

"Yes?" The door clicked open. It was the nurse again. Her eyes were puffy and red and she sniffled before answering.

"Um… are you… are you okay in here?"

Nick stood slowly, looking at the man who contributed to his existence and nothing more. Then he turned his back on him forever. He stepped into the hall with the nurse and shut the door behind him.

"Yeah… I'm done. I gotta go to our apartment and pick up some things, then head to my friends place in Atlas…" he looked at his watch and sighed. "Next train to Atlas isn't for hours… and…" He leaned against the wall and lowered his head.

"Are… are you okay?" she asked, reaching out and gingerly brushing his shoulder. She pulled her hand back when he flinched. "I'm sorry. I… Are you… what's wrong?"

"I have no family… and the only friend I could stay with isn't home tonight…" he said quietly. The nurse looked pained.

"I just finished my shift for the night. I could… I could give you a ride to your apartment if you want?" he said, smiling a little. Nick smiled but shook his head.

"No. I couldn't impose." he said. The nurse shook her head.

"No no no. Its no imposition, I swear." she said. Nick smiled again and looked down sheepishly.

"You're not gonna take no for an answer, are you?" he asked. She shook her head.

"C'mon," she said, hooking her arm around his and leading him towards the elevator.

"Um… thanks…"

"It's Sharon." she said cheerfully.

"Thank you, Sharon. My name is Nick." he muttered, as the elevator doors closed.

The drive to Nick's apartment was short but quiet. He didn't speak, and Sharon made no attempt to either. He wasn't quiet because there was anything wrong with her. Quite the contrary, she was giving him a ride to...

His mind bit off the words before he could think them. It wasn't his home anymore. It was… it was a crime scene. He lowered his eyes to the floor.

"So," Sharon's voice cut in as if sensing his nervousness. "Where do you go to school?"

"Atlas High. I graduate this year." Sharon smiled.

"I graduated from there a few years ago. Is Miss Berskowicz still there?" Nick nodded.

"Uhh… yeah. She's my home room teacher." Sharon laughed.

"I can't believe that woman is alive. I swear she must be like Statesman." Nick chuckled.

"I can't see Miss B going off any fighting crime." he said, looking out his window. "It's the apartment building on the right here."

Sharon parked the car and got out, looking up at the apartment building. It was a hole. And that

"You live here?" she asked. Nick shut his door and looked up as well.

"Yeah… or I did. I can't make the rent…" he said as he started towards the doors. Sharon followed silently. Nick led her past the elevators which hadn't worked properly in years and started up the stairs. After a few flights she stopped.

"W-what floor are you on?" she panted. Nick looked back at her and then looked up.

"Twenty third." he said. He stopped and waited for her to catch up.

"Do you do this every day?" she asked as she slowly climbed the last few steps up to meet him. He nodded.

"Yeah, every morning and every afternoon." he said as he started slowly up the stairs with Sharon in tow. "Do you need a rest?" Sharon shook her head and silently followed after him.

After several minutes they arrived at his floor. Nick stopped in front of the stairwell door and looked down at the handle, nervous as to what he might see behind it. Swallowing his fear he opened the door. Several Paragon Police officers were in the hall, taking statements from his neighbors. The crime scene analysts were stalking in and out of their apartment. Some carried cameras, others carried bags. Nick stalked past them all, like he was a ghost that haunted the building. He stopped in front of his apartment and peered inside. It was a mess, more so than usual. The coffee and dining room tables were overturned, his parents' microwave dinners spilled onto the already filthy carpet. And… the blood. There was so much blood.

"Hey! You two shouldn't be here!" came a loud voice. Nick barely heard it.

"This is Nicholas Spencer." Sharon said quickly. "He lives here." A large police officer walked over and eyed them both hard. Sharon withered under his scrutiny, Nick did not.

"I just came to get some of my stuff." he half mumbled.

"You can't go in there; it's an active crime scene." he said and grabbed Nick's shoulder. "We'll notify you when you can enter, but for now our analysts are still combing it for evidence." Nick nodded and the officer loosed his grip. Sharon gently tugged on his arm.

"C'mon Nick. We should go." she said, gently tugging on his arm. He turned slowly, but didn't take his eyes off the blood.

"Go where?" he asked. "I have nowhere else to go. No family… no home… one friend who is only somewhat friendly…" His voice began to waver and he looked down. Sharon felt her eyes begin to well up once more.

"You can come stay with me then." she said softly.

"You don't even know me." Nick said without looking at her.

"Well… I know… but, my mom always said to help those in need. And right now you seem like you need someone."

Nick turned and looked at her, tears in his eyes. He wasn't sure why he was crying; maybe it was just too much too soon. He opened his mouth to respond, but a strangled cry was all the came forth. He settled for a weak nod. Sharon smiled sadly and led him back down the hall towards the stairs.

The door creaked open to a small apartment in Steel Canyon and after a moment the lights flicked on. Nick looked around, feeling somewhat self conscious and nervous.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Sharon said as she stepped into her apartment and ushered Nick in after her. She shut and locked her door and took off her coat to hang on a hook next to it.

"You live here?" Nick asked, looking around but not moving. Sharon turned to him and frowned.

"Yes, is something wrong?"

"No! I mean, no. It's just… so nice here. Not like my apartment was…" Nick said quickly, fearing he'd made some sort of social faux pas. Sharon smiled and took his hand.

"Lemme give you the tour then." she said excitedly. She took his hand and casually led him around her apartment, pointing out her collection of books, the kitchen and restroom and then the couch.

"Sorry. I don't have a spare bedroom, but the couch is very comfy, I promise." She sounded worried. Nick smiled and sat down on the couch.

"I'm sorry to put you in this position." he said. "I just… I don't know where else I could go."

"It's fine. I offered you, remember? Stay as long as you want, okay?" Sharon said as she handed him a blanket and pillow. Nick took them and nodded politely.

"Thanks Sharon." Nick said as he set the pillow on the couch and unfolded the blanket. "I mean it. I can't thank you enough." Sharon smiled warmly and then retreated to her bedroom.

"G'night Nick. Sweet dreams." she said as she shut her bedroom door.

"Night…" Nick said quietly. He stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling and slowly permitted himself to drift off to sleep.


End file.
